By Hook or Crook
by Safflower Hitachi
Summary: Gil gets more than he bargained for when Angela, the local farmer and village idiot, ropes him into investigating an urban legend.  Is the empty house in the Caramel River District really haunted?


(A/N: This was originally written as a birthday present for my sister, SuperGrapePie. You can check out her various and sundry Harvest Moon fanfics on this very site if you want to read more about Akari's adventures in Waffle Town. The conclusion is coming in Chapter 2. Anyway, happy reading! Don't forget to tell me which parts are your favorite!)

Summer had come early to Waffle Island this year, and with the summer came the four week soak fest that was the rainy season. The torrential downpour beat mercilessly on the roof of the Town Hall like a drummer with no sense of rhythm, and the sheets of water rushing past the windows created a dull, bluish-grey ambience that flickered against the darkened walls and danced on the planked flooring. The only other light in the room came from a strategically-placed candle, as the electricity had gone out hours before.

Gil didn't mind the spooky atmosphere so much as he minded the several obvious leaks in the ceiling. He grumbled to himself as he placed a large tea kettle on the floor to catch the water in one area; then he shuffled off to the corner where his step ladder and caulking gun were waiting. He now sorely regretted giving Elli the week off, even if it _was _to look after her ailing grandmother. Repairing things was not his area of expertise—he was a bookkeeper, whereas Elli was the one who handled all the housekeeping issues. He'd briefly entertained the idea of hiring the local carpenters, but Dale was getting too old for this sort of thing, Bo was still too young to handle an emergency, and the last time he'd enlisted Luke's help to fix something, he'd ended up with a broken window and a headache.

Besides, it'd be downright inconsiderate to ask anyone to come out in this sort of weather. _'No one in their right mind would want to leave their house on a day like this,' _Gil thought dismally as he climbed the small ladder and stretched out his neck to determine the leak's point of origin.

As if on cue, the front door burst open with an eardrum-shattering _bang_, and a flash of lightning illuminated a desolate, dripping body lurking on the threshold. Gil shrieked, lost his footing, and tumbled backwards. The caulking gun slipped out of his grip and smacked against the wall uselessly on its way to the ground, leaving its owner unarmed and terrified.

"Who's there?" he demanded meekly when he heard footsteps approaching.

He was answered by a pair of arms throwing themselves around his neck, and a wet body soaking his impeccably clean sweater vest.

"Gilly!" cried the voice belonging to the wet body. "Did you miss me?" Gil pulled away and looked into the face of his assailant, a drenched but cheerful young farmer. Gil managed to look relieved and annoyed at the same time.

"No," he answered brusquely, "I saw you yesterday."

Clearly this was the wrong answer; the young woman withdrew her arms and folded them across her chest, pouting. The teapot by the doorway caught her eye, though, and her attention span faltered. "Were you having a tea party? How come I wasn't invited!"

Gil grimaced and reached for the caulking gun, brandishing it in her face a little. "Does it _look_ like I'm having a tea party?"

The young lady batted her eyes vacantly.

"…Yes."

Gil ignored her. "What are you _doing_ here, Angela?" he asked crossly, brushing himself off as he stood up. The girl pouted again.

"I told you not to call me by that name anymore," she huffed.

"Why in the world I _not_?" Gil rolled his eyes. "It's your _name_."

"Akari is a _much_ nicer name. What kind of farmer is named _Angela_, anyway?"

"You are," Gil pointed out wearily.

"But—!" the girl protested, flailing her arms, "Akari fits my personality better! It's much more…um…did I mention it's all the rage in Japan?"

"What?" Gil raised an eyebrow. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. No one else in this town has a Japanese name _or_ speaks Japanese. It's childish and annoying and we are not having this discussion. Ever. Again." If he had to endure the words _kawaii _or _desu_ one more time, that throbbing blood vessel in his forehead would most likely burst like a balloon.

"Fine, Cranky. Have it your way," the girl backed off, eyes agleam with mischief. "I guess I'll just take all these tomatoes I brought with me and go home," she said in a singsong voice as she walked away with deliberate slowness.

Gil's stifling exasperation turned to mild panic. "Wait, you can stay!" he pleaded.

"Byeeee, Gillyyyy," the farmer waved good-bye in slow motion for dramatic effect. "Goodbyeee."

"I take it back, you're not childish!" he beseeched her, "I was only kidding! _Angela_—!"

"I'm leeeaving nooow. I'm touching the doorknob! Oooo!"

"_Akari!_"

That worked. Angela clasped her hands cutely under her chin. "Yes, oh bestest friend of mine?"

"Uh...you'd better stay and towel off. Wouldn't want you getting sick out there in that storm." Gil responded with a forced smile.

"Oh, is it raining?" his tormentor replied, completely in earnest. "I didn't notice."

Within a few minutes, Gil was back on the job, while Angela sat carelessly atop his desk wrapped in a blanket, blithely wasting the batteries in the emergency flashlight .

"So then on _Tues_day I watered my plants and fed my silkworms and took care of the chickens. But then on _Wed_nesday I watered my plants and took care of the chickens and _then_ I fed my silkworms."

"The plot thickens," Gil said flatly. "Then let me guess. On Thursday you fed the chickens and silkworms and _then_ you watered your plants?"

"Un_real_, Gilly. Maybe you're psycho," Angela raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"I probably am," Gil agreed tonelessly. "And I owe it all to you."

"Because we're super specially very most bestest friends forever?" Angela prodded.

"As long as you keep the tomatoes coming, we are," the young man replied, silently wondering whether he should really be resigning himself to a life of hypertension in exchange for a few (admittedly outstanding) vegetables a week.

"Tomatoes are technically a type of _fruit_, Gilly," Angela pointed out.

Gil blanched. "How did you…?"

"Because I'm psycho, too?" Angela shrugged her shoulders.

"Can't argue with that," Gil deadpanned. As per usual, the snide remark sailed over Angela's head like a misguided missile and landed somewhere in the vicinity of Norway.

"Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, on _Friday_, I fed my—"

"Look, not that this isn't the most stimulating conversation I've had all day, but isn't there anything _else_ you wanted to talk about?" Gil cut in, not in the mood to be bored to sleep while standing atop a ladder. Again.

Angela leaned forward dramatically. "I'm glad you asked. Actually…there's this rumor I've been thinking of investigating, see?"

"The one about Simon wearing a toupee? I only wish it _weren't_ true," Gil rebuffed her, shuddering slightly at a memory he'd rather not discuss.

"No way, that's old news!" Angela snorted. "I was thinking about something…_scarier_."

'_What could be scarier than _that?' Gil wondered. She had his interest piqued now. "Go on," he said, setting aside the caulking gun for the time being. Trying to patch up this place was like trying to heal a wounded army with a single band-aid. _People of Waffle town, your tax dollars at work,_ he thought grimly as he dismounted the ladder and hobbled over to a chair.

The girl lowered her voice to a whisper, her face darkening. "They say that the empty farmhouse down by the river is…" she turned the flashlight on herself dramatically, "…_haunted_! Dun dun _dunnnnn_!"

"Well, that's news to me," Gil shrugged. The place in question had only been empty for a few years. Some rich geezer from out of town had commissioned for the place to be remodeled into a summer house, but had backed out of the deal when the Goddess Tree shriveled up, leaving the island destitute. As far as Gil knew, the place was still technically entitled to the out-of-towner. "And where did you chance by this undoubtedly priceless information?" the young man raised an eyebrow.

"I have sources," Angela replied shiftily.

"Who on earth would come up with something so redic—?"

"It all began not long ago. _It was a dark and stormy night_," Angela interrupted excitedly, caught up in the moment, "Just…like…this one."

"It's only 2 in the afternoon," Gil pointed out, incredulous.

"Hey, who's narrating this; you or me? You are _ruin_ing the _mood._"

A moment of silence passed between the two of them.

"Very well. Continue," Gil gave in. "Just pretend I'm on the edge of my seat."

"It was a dark and stormy night, and nary a Harvest Sprite was stirring. The townsfolk were cloistered safely inside their homes, oblivious to the _terror_ that lay just beyond their doors…_except for one._ A forlorn maiden struggled to find her way home down the meandering roads of the Caramel River District…_alone…_"

(Gil's face contorted as he pondered the mystery of how Angela's vocabulary mysteriously tripled when she was discussing something that was completely bogus.)

"Yes, it was certainly a dangerous time for a lady to be walking unescorted. But little did she know that greater perils were yet ahead. As she rounded the corner towards the abandoned seaside plot, something—or perhaps some_one—_ tripped her. With a sickening _squish_, she lost her balance and took a fierce tumble onto the drenched, muddy ground. Suddenly—_bam!_ Lightning ripped across the murky sky, briefly illuminating the long-abandoned field. And what she saw was _this_…" a dramatic pause ensued.

"_The shadow of a man with a hook for a hand!"_ Angela screamed, switching the flashlight on and off rapidly.

Gil was unaffected.

"Uh…the end," Angela finished.

Gil planted his chin in his hand. "So was that all?"

"Well…yeah. That, and…_her favorite dress was ruined!"_ Angela added with the same vocal intensity as before. She flickered the flashlight again for emphasis.

"Terrifying," Gil replied, stifling a yawn.

"Oh—oh, wait! Wait! That's _not_ the only thing that's creepy about that house. I heard something else, too…apparently, other young girls wander onto that property…_but they don't come back_," the farmer drew the blanket closer around her as her eyes bugged out pointedly.

"Young girls? Like who?" Gil cocked an eyebrow. "There are only about ten young girls in this town at any given time," he explained with a hint of irritation.

"You know…._girls_. Like…like Maya. And Kathy."

"I saw Kathy two days ago," Gil rebutted.

"Two days is a long time in ghost years, Gilly. _A long time_."

"_Ghost_ years?"

"Precisely. By my calculations, two days is about nine octillion ghost years, give or take a year," Angela explained matter-of-factly.

"Right. Sounds totally legit," Gil sneered. He mentally filed away the term 'ghost years' with all the other inane measurements the lady farmer had invented, like 'three cornometers' (aka 'as many ears of corn as she could lie end-to-end across her kitchen floor') and 'one Lunacup' (or 'the amount of cocktails Luna could down before passing out and getting violently ill,' which incidentally was only about a glass and a half).

"You bet your cowlick it is!" Angela pounded her fist into her hand, wincing as she made contact a little too hard. "I've done my homework on this one, buddy, 'cause this is a mystery that you and I are going to _solve_!"

Gil stopped unconsciously trying to smooth down his hair and gave a little lurch. "Wait, we're going to do _what_ now?"

Angela rolled her eyes for a change. "There's a groovy mystery out there just _waiting_ to be de-mystified! And it's _your_ job as the sole protector of this island to put an end to this ghost business, once and for all!"

"You sure you don't have me confused with someone else? I do _paperwork_, remember?" Gil leaned back in his chair, watching the water pour in from the ceiling. Angela's angry face hovering directly over his scared him back into an upright position. _How did she even get over here…?_

"You. Me. The haunted farmhouse. Tomorrow morning at eight. Don't be late," the brunette demanded fiercely. "And wear these," she added, producing a pair of costume rabbit ears and plopping them onto his lap. "Trust me, you're going to need them. Ciao!" she suddenly smiled and bounded out of the room without a second thought, leaving a trail of tomatoes in her wake.

Gil screwed up his face in disbelief as she went galloping back into the wet, murky darkness from whence she came. He gave the rabbit ears dangling from his fist a sideways look.

"Protector of the island, huh?" he smirked in spite of himself. "Sure, why not."


End file.
